The restroom door behind her was violently kicked open.
Before Chelsea could turn around, a massive hand clamped hard over her mouth. A thick, muscular arm wrapped around her waist like a steel vice.
Her feet were lifted off the ground. She was dragged backward, pulled out of the women's room. The deafening bass of the party's music completely swallowed her muffled protests. The hallway lighting had conveniently flickered and died at this end, cloaking them in heavy shadows. Using the momentary distraction of a passing waiter pushing a clattering bus tub in the opposite direction, her captor shoved her brutally through an unmarked door leading to a cramped, unused maintenance closet.
Chelsea's high heels scraped harshly against the concrete floor as she was hauled into the pitch-black storage space.
A heavy boot kicked the solid wood door shut. The loud crack echoed off the narrow walls. A hand reached up and twisted the brass deadbolt, locking them inside.
Jackson spun her around. He grabbed both of her shoulders and shoved her hard.
Chelsea's back slammed into the cold marble wall. The impact knocked the breath out of her lungs. She let out a muffled gasp and instinctively brought her hands up to push against his chest.
It was like pushing against a concrete pillar.
Jackson stepped into her space. He pressed his heavy forearm horizontally across her collarbone, pinning her flat against the wall.
In the dim light filtering through the frosted window, Jackson's eyes were bloodshot. His chest heaved with ragged, furious breaths.
"What kind of drugs did you pump into him to make him publicly claim you like that?" Jackson hissed, his voice vibrating with raw rage.
Trapped in the dark, isolated space, Chelsea dropped the terrified victim act. She glared up at him, her eyes burning with pure defiance. She kept her mouth shut.
Her silence snapped the last thread of his control.
Jackson's free hand shot up. His long fingers clamped around her jaw, squeezing hard enough to bruise. He forced her head up, making her look directly into his eyes.
Chelsea gritted her teeth against the pain.
"Cason is ten times the man you will ever be," she spat out, the words dripping with venom.
Jackson's pupils blew wide open. The muscles in his neck strained. His grip on her jaw tightened dangerously.
He leaned his entire body weight against her. His chest crushed her breasts. His thighs pressed flush against hers. There was absolutely no space left between them. Chelsea could feel the frantic, violent pounding of his heart against her ribs.
"You think you're going to use my family's money to pay off your junkie father's debts?" Jackson growled, his face inches from hers.
Hearing him insult her fake family made her blood boil. Chelsea violently jerked her head to the side, trying to break his grip on her jaw.
As she turned her head, her hair swept back. The pulse point on her neck was exposed.
The faint, sweet scent of cheap vanilla perfume-the exact same perfume she wore five years ago-drifted up and hit Jackson's senses.
Jackson froze.
His rigid posture faltered for a fraction of a second. A look of profound, agonizing confusion flashed across his face. The pure hatred in his eyes warred with a sudden, violent surge of buried lust.
Chelsea felt his muscles relax slightly. She instantly brought her knee up, aiming straight for his groin.
Jackson reacted with the speed of a predator. He shifted his weight and drove his knee hard between her legs, spreading her thighs and pinning her completely to the wall. Her escape route was dead.
He lowered his head. He buried his face in the crook of her neck. His hot, ragged breath washed over her sensitive skin.
A violent shiver ripped through Chelsea's body. Panic, real and suffocating, finally clawed at her throat.
"If Cason finds us in here, you won't be able to explain this," she warned, her voice trembling with genuine fear.
The mention of his brother's name in this intimate, twisted position destroyed Jackson's sanity.
He pulled his head back. His eyes were completely unhinged. He tilted his head. His lips brushed roughly against her cheek.
He opened his mouth and clamped his teeth down hard on her right earlobe.
It wasn't a kiss. It was a brutal, punishing bite, designed to inflict maximum humiliation without breaking the skin.
A sharp, piercing pain shot through the side of Chelsea's head. She let out a loud, agonizing cry. Tears spilled from her eyes. Her hands flew up, her nails digging desperately into the fabric of his suit jacket.
Jackson felt the soft cartilage yield dangerously under the pressure, leaving a deep, dark purple indentation. He slowly released his bite, his hot breath ghosting over the throbbing, bruised flesh.
He pressed his lips against her aching ear.
"Leave Cason," Jackson whispered, his voice sounding like a demon crawling out of hell. "Or I will personally destroy every single thing you care about."
He let go of her abruptly. He took a large step back, his chest heaving as he adjusted his crooked tie.
He turned, unlocked the deadbolt, and walked out of the restroom without looking back.
Chelsea's knees buckled. She slid down the cold marble wall and collapsed onto the floor. She pressed her trembling hand against her bleeding ear, her body shaking violently with rage and humiliation.
